Blogger, realist, clarifier, if there is such a term. Truth teller, who's not afraid to admit I'm wrong. Hellacious, renegade violist and "computer whisperer"; was once accused of practicing the Dark Arts with systems.
I'm tougher than most and survived things that would have killed most women. I still love life. I was homeless, now I'm not. Still in the 'hood, though. Nebraska Avenue, 33605. The stories are priceless and endless.

Sunday, September 25, 2016

#AMWRITING #BLOGGING – IT MAY BE TIME FOR THAT REVOLT!

Other
than the most horrible election campaign in forever and the most
divisive political and social climate in the USA's history since the
pre-war antebellum years (prior to 1860) – at least it seems to me, and I do
remember Selma, Alabama - there has really not been much to carp about
in my life, until now.

I've
been playing again regularly and writing. My life is my own and I
have a sweet, sweet man in my life that I adore; the wait was well
worth it. I play with computers and fix them and consult with think
tanks and am pretty cutting-edge and I keep my skills sharp, and my
wit sharper.

I
don't let my essential tremor or weird eyesight stop me from doing
anything – well, except maybe driving, 'cause no one wants Mary on
the road. The 'hood is dangerous around here as it is. So, what is
causing me to just want to yearn for the days when I could hop
astride my battle-charger, grab my scimitar and lop off heads?

Medicaid.
What a benighted, stupid, lazy and useless blight on the landscape.
All social entities of this ilk fall under the same judgment, if all
of my experiences are anything to go by.

The
last time I went into a Defcon 1 state was when Jim was dying and
Hospice sent out this Social Worker Manager, who did nothing but
check her phone, her jewelry, diss the hard-working nurses and
aides, and make eyes at Alex. When I was trying to get her attention to find out just what
in the hell was going on, she started talking to me, got two words out, then her phone rang,
and she just automatically answered it. She stuck a finger in my
face, like "hold one!" and was attempting to plan a meeting. I waited, and then she
proceeded to turn her call into a social visit.

I
jerked that phone out of her hand and hung up on her caller. Karen
(they're always a Karen, or a Kristen, or some goddamned preppy name,
said “But I was planning Wednesday's Staff meeting!” I glared at
her and said, “Lady? I don't give a fuck if you were planning the fate of the Free World with the U. N. You're with ME, now, bitch!” THAT
got her attention.

When
one is disabled and has to fight with this kind of thing CONSTANTLY,
you learn to get militant in a hurry. Nice does not cut it. These
people do not go into these fields to help people. They are not the
“best and the brightest” of anything. They do so because they
really aren't much good at doing anything else and they really aren't held to any "real" standards to prove that they are of exceptional worth.

This
was brought home to me with a resounding thud last week, when, after
careful planning by myself, and what I thought were my supplemental
Insurance company, Medicare and Medicaid, I went ahead and had all of
my upper teeth removed, and two lower ones. That was the easy part.
As a matter of fact, the doctor was astonished. I have an enormously
high pain threshold; maybe abnormally so. Between the time the
administered the locals and pulled 17 teeth, I was in the chair,
maybe 45 minutes, 15 of those jabbering at the Dental Assistant.

But,
before I could have that done, Medicaid, as usual, threw me a curve
ball. I had to pay for the entire thing UP FRONT. At first, I thought
it would just be my “Share of Cost” which is the most goddamned
stupid term in the entire universe. My share of cost is just 200.00
less than I get paid each month on my SSDI check. Now, how in the
fuck am I supposed to live on that, if I can't meet my “share of
cost”, even if it's one penny less?

I
bit the bullet and paid. I've been suffering for a while. We Scots
have horrible dentition anyway. My mom lost a child due to her rotten
teeth. My dad had to have an upper plate when he was 57. I'm 60 and
got this far. But, I've had abscess after abscess and as I've had
congestive heart failure, that's asking for trouble. One of my medications I take for my breathing - COPD, which I barely feel - is also hard on dentition, too and there's no way around it, now matter how much you rinse after you use it. It's been getting
harder and harder to eat, and that's an issue for me. I have trouble
keeping weight on. So, the uppers had to go.

Anyway,
I called Medicaid, and uploaded my bills and did what they told me to
do. Today, I got a letter of denial from Medicaid. I think a picture
says 1,000 words, so I'm just gonna post the bills and Medicaid's
response, along with my response to Medicaid. I can't upload my
response to them just now, because they use some fuckin' JAVA
bullshit, but one way or another, this is gonna be a short ride for
them, because I refuse to truckle with idiots.

Okay, this bill has my name on it.

Page 2 shows my signature and where I paid. To be fair, when I sent this to Medicaid, I had NOT signed this. I WILL be sending the SIGNED copy, if they can get their collective rectal craniotomies performed and fix their fucking JAVA.

THIS. . . is what the fine folks at Medicaid sent back to me. I immediately lost it. I just cannot fucking believe that anyone there took a look at my bills. I wrote back, the following, attached as a note in that cute little red and yellow box up there as a note:

ARE YOU KIDDING????? Before you send me another rejection, beware! This kind of shoddy treatment on the behalf of the State of Florida, Department of Children and Families will bring unwarranted attention! I went OUT of my way to ensure this very thing did not happen. I not only paid YOUR (reimbursable to ME, which is fucking LAME) portion out of pocket, I paid MY insurance cap's portion out of pocket. I have another Dental Appointment for a deep cleaning on 9/26/2016 and am expecting to have an upper plate made. I have horrible dentition due to the medication I take for my COPD. I have had congestive heart failure, in the past and now suffer from essential tremor and am legally blind. I have a failure to thrive, partially due to being unable to chew properly and this is a medical necessity! What is wrong with you people?

I live on a fixed income and am approximately 15.00 from going hungry and being homeless AGAIN, because you nameless gorms cannot look at paperwork and do your jobs. IF! IF I see one more rejection of this type, I am marching my ass down to the nearest TV station and showing them this whole debacle. I will also contact my State Senator, your supervisors and you will wish that you had at least learned to follow directions.

Am I clear on this? I certainly hope so, because I will not write another missive of this kind. I will act.

===========================

Oh, Hi! Me again! I then fired off an email to State Senator Bill Nelson. My next step, if this is not settled to my satisfaction will be to call the local news station, Channel 8, and present them with this whole mess for their "8 On Your Side" Series. I got too much to do and I really, really don't need the aggravation right now, or ever, really. There was a time in this country when people didn't have to monkey around with this kind of horseshit and all I'm doing is doing the goddamned State Agencies' jobs for them. They are all leeches on society and this right here is one reason why the country has gone to hell and everything sucks!

============================

ADDENDUM: According to my treatment plan laid out by my Dentist I was to get my remaining teeth cleaned and two small fillings on the bottom. We got the cleaning done, but because the insurance is STILL showing up in the system as Preventative ONLY and not TOTAL care, which is what the card is showing that I have in my hand, I have to wait on that. It just gets worse and worse and I gave up my 24 transportation vouchers, which led to ANOTHER hassle for this! Stay tuned!

Itinerant violist and computer trouble-shooter for more years than I care to admit. While no longer homeless, still crazy, but with Labels *sigh* a bus-riding Asperger, bipolar-ridden, PD or non-PD, carbon life-form, providing fodder for Medical community. Not even kidding. Still ridiculous.

Acquiring a much richer and fuller experience and finding deeper meaning in day to day life, than I ever learned in a classroom, concert hall, or computer center. I will never believe that things just occur randomly, just monumentally disordered.

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Eventually everything happens on Nebraska Avenue. The pimps have been here, both the real and the political. The athletes and the artists. It's a life, a state of mind and it's home, Nebraska Avenue, 33605, 33602 and 33604.

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I Haz Home Naow - in Kitty Heaven

My Rent-a-Kitty, has become a Perma-Kitty, Mama, although she passed away, nearly one year to the day that Jim died. She actually adopted Jim first, then me.